


Homesick

by Marasa



Category: Bleach
Genre: Anxiety, Chinese Takeout, Fluff, Gen, Nostalgia, Rain, Snuggling, Visored, Visoreds, Vizard - Freeform, Vizards - Freeform, cuddle puddle, hand holding, napping together, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 08:15:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16657447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marasa/pseuds/Marasa
Summary: Kensei’s sure he looks like a complete idiot right now.Or Kensei has a rough night and the Visoreds do their best.





	Homesick

Kensei’s sure he looks like a complete idiot right now.

He’s standing outside the warehouse, barefoot, hood of his black sweatshirt up on his head, all as he stares straight up at the stormy sky.

The air is still. Lightning flashes. Bellows of thunder like the roars of hollows follow close behind.

A single drop of rainwater hits the center of his forehead and then he really feels stupid.

“What are you doing?”

Kensei doesn’t shake at the harshly-posed question but inhales slowly. The air is electrifying in a way that feels foreign.

“The storms,” he murmurs. “They’re different here.”

Hiyori’s eerily quiet then somewhere behind him, as if she’s thought the same and he’s reading her mind.

Another raindrop hits his left cheek bone.

The tattoo on his torso burns.

Kensei drops his head to look at the tops of his feet.

“It’s about to rain, dumbass,” Hiyori says from where she stands just outside the warehouse door. “Get inside.”

The interior of their weathered warehouse is tainted with smell of the Chinese food Hachi and Mashiro just picked up. They had curry two nights ago and the konbini sushi was getting old.

The eight of them sit cross-legged in a circle on the floor. The food is positioned sloppily in the middle of them. They grab chopsticks and pick up a random paper carton, eating a few bites before passing it to their left, right, across, diagonal.

Hiyori knows Kensei likes the carrots cubes in fried rice so she piles them up in the corner of the carton just for him. Lisa likes broccoli, so Shinji saves the broccoli in his carton for her. Hachi likes strawberry vitamin water so Rose consciously takes a blue one. Mashiro prefers to eat all the fortune cookies but Love likes the fortunes, so they generously switch what’s in their hands once the cookies are broken.

Hiyori sits to Kensei’s left, wearing a hoodie instead of her usual red jacket. It’s gray and much too big to be hers. When she leans forward to take a dumpling from the container Shinji’s holding, Kensei catches a woodsy whiff that can only be Ichigo.

Kensei wouldn’t say he hates Ichigo. None of them would say that.

What they would say is that he’s fucking frustrating.

He goes on and on about how he would never join them but still he shows up frequently and more so with little desire to train and instead a desire to shoot the shit and watch B-movies with them.

“My house gets annoying, all right?” he said one night over a card game when they started teasing him about being so domestic with them. “My sisters are loud and my dad’s annoying and Rukia’s gone.”

“And we don’t annoy you?” Rose asked, voice coy and rising like perfume.

Ichigo threw another card down. “Not as much as other people.”

Shinji played a card that trumped their new friend’s. “The feeling’s mutual.”

The game ended in laughter and ridiculous arguments between wrongly accused cheaters.

Kensei wants to smile at the memory but the melancholy currently brewing within him rains on his spirit.

They’ve gotten closer after what happened to them. Bonding over shared trauma, he guesses.

It was all very cold business in the Soul Society, with ranks and lieutenants and a constant and unspoken conversation between captains and subordinates of personal worth and lack thereof.

All that shit fell apart when they were exiled.

Abandoned, more like it.

They’re equals now.

No captains. No lieutenants. Just a group of souls left behind by those they loved and trusted.

Kensei finishes his food first. There’s a conversation happening around him but he’s in no way a part of it and that’s more than fine. He places his hands in the front pouch of his sweatshirt, slouches his shoulders and buries his nose in the warm fabric atop Hiyori’s right shoulder.

She continues eating, unbothered.

Lisa, sitting on his right, scratches his back absently as she makes a case as to why spring rolls are better than regular egg rolls. Hiyori’s knee presses against his as she spits a curse as to why that’s the stupidest thing she’s ever heard.

The conversation borders on friendly argument up until a harrowing crack of thunder shakes the entire warehouse and ceases all speech.

All eight look skyward.

“Pretty big storm, huh?” Love says.

“Ugh,” Hiyori groans as she returns to her carton of noodles. “It’s gonna be a loud night.”

“And I wanted to finish that show we started,” Rose says. “We won’t be able to hear it if it rains hard.”

“I say we sleep through it,” Kensei murmurs against Hiyori and into the fabric that smells of Ichigo. He closes his eyes and the world feels heavy. “What else can we do?”

They know something’s on his mind; they can hear it in his tone, can feel it in every second of his stretched silence.

“I could go for a nap after this, actually,” Shinji says and Kensei’s grateful.

The rest set aside their questions for him and instead make sounds of agreement as they push away their empty cartons.

The rain starts as soon as they make their way over to the corner of the warehouse to the pile of pillows and blankets they’ve gathered there.

Some of them were gifted to them by a certain shopkeeper when he caught wind of them in town. A gesture of good will.

They told him to get fucked and leave them alone.

Still, they would never admit to him that they did not indeed burn the items of comfort like they said they would but instead kept and cherished them because of those few shreds of reitsu clinging to the warm fibers like cat hair.

It was somewhat familiar, smelling like the home they had been cast from. It brought about the better memories before their fall. It also brought tears to their eyes because they’d never go back.

Kensei tries to be discreet as he clears his throat but he can feel eyes on him, can feel someone’s hand between his shoulder blades.

Hachi sits on a large pillow far back against the wall. He can fall asleep pretty much anywhere. He’s already quietly snoring the minute his head drops forward.

Love settles beside him, leaning against his large left arm. Rose curls into Love’s side, a yawn on his lips. Lisa sits not too far from him, a book open on her crossed legs and her fingers gently twisting the ends of Rose’s blonde hair. Mashiro lays with her head on Lisa’s hip and her legs tucked up against her chest.

Shinji settles on his back at their feet. Hiyori shuffles over to him and unceremoniously flops down, resting her head on his stomach.

“Oi, get off me,” Shinji drawls at the ceiling, deep and lazy, but makes no move to shake her.

Kensei takes a moment to look at all of them where they’re settled comfortably and beginning to doze. They would never be like this back in the Soul Society. They’re like this now and it’s wonderful.

Silver linings. He acknowledges he is trying to find silver linings.

He acknowledges he is still dwelling on the past even though he wants to be rid of it.

Some nights are harder.

Some nights, he’s just homesick.

Kensei sighs and slides down to the large pillows at his feet. He lays his head just below Shinji’s bicep.

It’s dark in the warehouse. The only light is the small television on the floor turned on not too far away from their cozy pile. The low volume is drowned out by the rain now picking up. It sounds like hail against the metal roof.

Kensei sighs harshly as he turns onto his right side. He’s surprised but not too surprised to see Hiyori already looking at him.

“What were you doing out there?” she says, and it doesn’t get lost in the sound of the rain.

Kensei doesn’t want to say what’s been on his mind but he trusts them, knows them, loves them, and the truth slips out from between his lips before he can stop himself:

“Do they even think about us?”

Hiyori shifts her head still on Shinji’s stomach. Her and Kensei’s eye contact is unbreakable.

“Do you want the truth?” she asks. “Or do you want me to lie to you?”

Kensei blinks once, twice. In his pained silence, Hiyori understands.

“They think about us every day,” she whispers and the sadness in her eyes is tangible.

Kensei grits his teeth, he doesn’t know why. Maybe out of hatred. Probably more so out of pure upset. It’s only sad when he really thinks about it and for some reason, tonight, it’s the only thing on his mind.

“We’re all we need.” Lisa’s speaks with a tone of finality behind them, aware of every word. “Us. That’s it.”

“Agreed,” Rose sighs.

“Fuck everyone else,” Shinji says.

“And Ichigo?” Mashiro asks, looking up from Lisa’s side.

Shinji hums in consideration. “Fuck him until he comes to his senses.”

Hiyori rolls her eyes and sticks up for their orange-haired friend by promptly jabbing her elbow into Shinji’s side.

“You little shit!” he gasps.

“Little!? I’m almost as old as you!”

“You’re short,” Shinji spits. “Synonyms, dumbass.”

“Don’t call me dumbass, dumbass!”

Kensei chuckles quietly.

The joyous sound extinguishes the fire of their bickering. Kensei looks up at the silence just to see his friends peeking fondly over at him, pleased to see that they were able to help bring him out of the storm of nostalgia and heartbreak swirling in his head.

Shinji shifts himself down a bit, just enough to rest his arm across Kensei’s chest. His and Hiyori’s fingers tangle together, their link gentle yet strong.

Thunder booms above but it doesn’t sound threatening anymore, not with the warmth and safety surrounding him.

Snores sound, quiet breath smelling of Chinese food rises above them. Hiyori and Shinji’s locked fingers twitch where they rest atop Kensei’s shoulder.

He smiles softly.

Yes, Kensei thinks, they’re all they need. This, right here, now.

Home.


End file.
